


Spooky-Dos: 5,987,409.  PC Andy: 1.

by Amand_r



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:58:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amand_r/pseuds/Amand_r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He really wanted to join Torchwood.  Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spooky-Dos: 5,987,409.  PC Andy: 1.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dani_the_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dani_the_girl/gifts).



He really wanted to join Torchwood. For one thing, it had better uniforms, as in it didn't have any, and he was tired of strapping the ugly thing on every day. Secondly, they carried guns, and while he didn't really like the things, some sort of testosterone driven thing inside him _wanted_ to feel one in his hand. Maybe pop off a few shots.

And yeah, they always seemed in the know. Every time Gwen strode past him at a scene, her hair flying behind her with the wind of her gait, all he could think was images of Kiefer Sutherland in 24, saving the world and all.

Torchwood was _badass_.

Andy had drawn the line at begging, but it was hard to remember that when he was pressed into the wall behind the Stork and Fin pub, with Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood himself licking his neck.

He wasn't sure when it had happened, or how it had happened, but he'd found the man in the alley, several holes in his chest and blood everywhere. He had been reaching for his radio, unsure as to whether he should just call Gwen, and then thought, no dammit, he was a police constable, a _real_ one, and he was going to do this the _proper_ way.

He had the radio up to his mouth when Harkness sat upright abruptly, gasping for breath, arms flailing. Andy almost fell on his ass in the dingy puddles behind the bar.

"HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!" he screamed. Harkness was covered in blood, all down his shirt, and there were holes, _holes_ where something has perforated him. Andy watched the man clutch his chest and glance about wildly, and he spared a few seconds to think about zombies, the undead, and possible "spooky-dos" that this could involve. Maybe aliens. Good god, _aliens…_

Harkness groaned and Andy's grip on his baton tightened. "PC Davidson," the man ground out, falling back onto the dirty ground and snorting. "Figures."

"You—are you quite all right? Your chest—"

Harkness smacked himself in the chest. "I know. Broad and manly." He opened one eye and looked at Andy questioningly. "Would you buy that I'm a messy eater?" He held up his palm, painted red but fading in the steady downpour of rain.

"Were you dead?" Andy blurted out. He nervously clicked the button on his radio on and off, not even sure what to say. If anyone else had, well, resurrected, it'd be a matter for Torchwood, he was sure. But what happened when the problem _was_ Torchwood?

Good god, maybe they were all like this. Was that why they wouldn't hire him? Dear God, was Gwen like this?

"Did you call anyone?" Harkness said, rising to his feet with a grunt and wiping his hands on his coat.

Andy let the radio fall from his fingers, and it swung from the cord attached to his shoulder. "No."

Harkness sighed and touched the earpiece on his head. "Ianto? Did you…?" He frowned off into thin air, the way that people do when they're talking on the phone, and then he grinned, eyes flitting to Andy. "Oh good, then. Tell Gwen I have her favorite constable here." He wagged his eyebrows at Andy. It was obscene.

Andy backed up a bit. Out in the street a group of teenagers strolled past the alleyway.

"No, no, I don't think so," Harkness continued. "Well, not yet anyway. I don't have any on me in any case." He patted himself down and then looked about, finally retrieving his gun from behind a rusty bin. "Gwen, Gwen, Gwen, calm down. I need some new clothes but…yeah, he saw it." Harkness flipped open the cylinder, saw that it was empty, and ejected it, stuffing it in his pocket and pulling out a loaded one to pop into place. Andy watched, feeling something stirring in him.

 _Badass._

"Oh, Ianto, that's too ambiguous for you to say with a straight face." There was the sound of a car horn from the street and they both looked down the length of the alley. "Well, don't do anything until I get there. There's a failsafe in the trigger and those egg sacs ain't filled with poison." He cocked his head, listening. "You better hope Gwen is on the pill then." And then he winced. "A joke! A joke!"

He tapped the earpiece again and shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Well then, PC Davidson," Harkness said, snapping the holster lock in to place. "Just you, me, and a rather awkward event that defies description."

"I want a job," Andy said. Harkness looked up from the holster of his gun then, eyes wide.

"You have a job, PC Davidson," he reminded him, stepping forward. Something that smelled like cologne wafted to Andy's nose and he sniffed the air. What was that?

"I want to work for Torchwood," Andy corrected. He pressed his back against the wall. If he concentrated, he was almost sure that he could feel the thrum of the crowd inside. But Harkness's eyes wrinkled a bit with humor when he got a little too close. Any other time Andy would have felt for his asp and told him to back up a step, but he wasn't scared of Captain Harkness, not even when he looked at him like _that_.

Harkness just grinned, but his eyes were unreadable. The lights from the street dimmed as the rain picked up. "Really now." He leaned in and breathed a bit into Andy's ear, and there was nothing professional about that. Nothing at all. Andy's cock twitched, and he almost reached down to shift himself.

"Yeah," he said, waiting for Harkness to say something in his ear. But nothing came. Instead, a hand pressed against his shoulder, digging him into the brick wall and Harkness's tongue darted out to lick the hollow of his ear, and it occurred to Andy that this whole thing was a bit. Odd.

He reached out with his hands to push Harkness away, but instead he found himself tugging on his coat, moving his neck away so that he could find Harkness's mouth. He tasted like coffee and blood and something else, something dangerous, and his other hand undid the buckle of Andy's belt and the front of his trousers with ease. His hand closed on Andy's half hard cock before Andy could even pull away from Harkness's mouth to protest.

"You want to work for Torchwood," Harkness purred into his ear. "You don't even know Torchwood." His hand fisted Andy's cock, and _Jesus,_ he squeezed with a pulse, and Andy closed his eyes, his fingers dancing along the front of Harkness's clothes, tugging at his ruined shirt, digging under the cloth to touch the damp skin underneath.

Harkness chuckled and let Andy peel up his shirt, reach into his trousers for his cock, warm and hard, his own hand still pumping Andy's cock and whispering things in his ear, things that sounded like, "PC Davidson wants to save the world," and "People in Torchwood _die_ , you know." Andy made a noise and bit Harkness's ear and when he came all over the Captain's hand, he let go of the man completely and slapped his hands on the brick behind him, mouth open and whining, eyes screwed shut against the rain and the gaze of the man in front of him.

Harkness bit his neck softly as he kneaded Andy's softening cock. "You don't want to work for Torchwood," he said, his voice flat and low. He let go of Andy and stepped back, out of the intimate circle and into a less personal space.

"I want to work for you," Andy choked out as Harkness tucked his ruined shirt back into his trousers. Andy was sure that if he unlocked his knees, he'd fall on the ground, so he just stood there, cock out, hands pressed flat to the brick wall behind him. Harkness's stare was unnerving. Spooky.

And then he smiled. "Andy, Andy, Andy," he said, shaking his head. "You're never going to stop, are you?"

Andy felt a flush creep up into his face, though how he could be redder was something of a detached mystery. He did manage to stutter out a "no."

Harkness glanced down at his shirt and laughed. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but we're a mess." He gestured to the front of Andy's uniform, now streaked with rainwater and blood, Harkness's blood. "But I'll make you a deal." He strolled to the end of the alley and flipped his collar up. It didn't do anything to hide the mess that was his clothes, or shield him from the rain that was starting to really pour down, but it looked cool. Flashy. _Badass._

"Yeah?" he said, finally able to push off from the wall and swipe at the front of his own clothes. He managed to tuck himself back into his trousers and do his flies, but his hands were shaking a bit. His mac was in the car and he would probably be wearing it for the rest of the night, or at least until shift change, when he could go back to the station and get a fresh coat. Oh, and he scheduled some time in there to process the fact that he'd just got off against the bloody clothes of a prospective employer.

Maybe after tea.

"Come by the Plass tomorrow."

Andy tilted his head. "Where on the Plass?"

Harkness shrugged. "Just the Plass." And then he turned the corner, leaving Andy sodden and undone and rather bothered. The rain softened a bit, and he shook himself, reattached his radio and trudged back to the car. The handle stuck and he had to yank it hard to open the door.

Oh well, with any luck, this would be his last night driving it anyway. Torchwood had a monster SUV. And romps in the rain, and guns, and apparently, sexual encounters.

 _Badass._

END


End file.
